Competing with Perfection
by ravenclawroyalty
Summary: Petunia reminisces about that one sister who she hated so much. or did she? i may have lost my mind writing this. oh well. it's a one shot type thing.


_A/N: this just came to me a few minutes ago. I have no idea if this is good or not. Reviews are appreciated. I would also like people to review my other fic. I'm bordering desperation…not really. Anyway, enjoy._

Disclaimer: do I look like I want to be sued? No. Therefore, I do not claim ownership of Harry Potter characters.

Competing with Perfection 

Our relationship was simple: she was everything I wasn't. I was nothing. Well, not nothing. Just…less. She was beautiful, I wasn't. She was popular, I gossiped too much. She was happy; I was always too busy feeling inferior. She had love, I had desperation.

I always knew that I was a shadow compared to her. She was the sun in our family. I don't know what I was. Our parents loved her. I know they loved me too, but it was different with her. They were so proud of everything she did; even if it was freakish and abnormal. They loved it that she was different. When she came home from her freak school and told them about all the freak things she had learned, they were ecstatic. I came home from _normal_ school, they were happy. See the difference? With her everything was better, brighter, more dramatic.

I don't really know what happened at her freak school. I didn't want to know. She would come home and tell us all about hexes and charms and potions. I didn't like anything out of the ordinary. I learned that at an early age. The first time she did something unnatural I knew I hated it. I clung to normalcy. Maybe that's why I always felt overshadowed in her presence.

People always said we were like a pair of wild horses. They never said this but I knew it was because she was bright and intense. I just looked like one.

Even my love life was dull and static compared to hers. I took the first guy I could get; she took the only guy who couldn't get her. Some freak from her freak school who'd been chasing her for years.

I invited her to my wedding for appearances only. I didn't really want her to come. I didn't want her to out-shine me on my day. She came. She didn't out-shine me. She made sure she stayed inconspicuous. She knew how important it was to me. I think that was the only time I really truly loved her with all my heart.

Then, our parents were killed. By people like her. Freaks. She had almost been killed too. She said that there was a dark lord and his followers were attacking everyone. I didn't care. I blamed her. She had nowhere to go. I wouldn't take her in. I hated her. She went to that boy's house. The boy she would marry two years later. I was glad she was out of my sight.

She invited me to her wedding. I told her I couldn't come. I was still angry. She sent me pictures. The photos moved. I had told my husband what she was, and he didn't like it. He didn't like her either. He wanted to burn the pictures but for some reason I hid them in the attic.

She and I both had children in the same year. She sent me another picture. I hid that one too, without telling Vernon. I didn't tell her about my son. I was afraid she would want to come and see him. I couldn't face her. I didn't want to see her.

A year later she gave me one last curse to remember her by. Her only child. She was dead along with her husband. She had died the same way our parents had. I was scared. I took her nasty child. He was a constant reminder to the sister I was trying so hard to forget. He looked so much like his father except for those eyes. His eyes belonged to her. It was like she was watching me even though she was gone.

I tried to make him normal. Vernon and I both tried. I didn't want him to end up the same way she had. I didn't want him to be a part of that freak world. I think deep down, I didn't want him to die the same way she had. The same way our parents had. It didn't work though. He got a letter from that freak school. Vernon was livid. I didn't want him to go either but I think the shack in the ocean was a bit much.

It was nice having the boy gone. I could pretend he didn't exist for a while. But he always came back. Reality hits hard. I got hit with it every summer and each time it hurt more.

After sixteen years of torture he came to me and told me this was the last time he was coming back. He told me everything. A part of me was relieved but another part of me was sad to see him go. I found myself praying that he didn't end up like she did. I prayed he lived. I had never prayed before. I tried to give him the pictures she had given me. He told me to keep them. He had others.

I don't know what happened to him. He left and, true to his word, he hasn't been back. Sometimes I find myself looking in the cupboard under the stairs or in the spare room he had been moved into. Sometimes, especially in the beginning of summer, I find myself driving to Kings Cross for no reason and thinking about that ridiculous freak platform. And sometimes I actually miss him…his eyes anyway. I miss those emerald eyes. I see them in my dreams on occasion.

I look at my life and look at hers. Hers was short and blissful. Well, blissful compared to mine. I wish she were still alive. I wish for a lot of things though. My life is small and tedious compared to hers. I imagine her life being full of laughter and sunlight. I am content. I'm happy with normalcy. I wonder what she would be doing at this moment if she were still alive. Probably smiling.

I was bitter for a long time. Now I'm just sad. Sad of the way things turned out. Sad that I never got to say goodbye. Sad that she had to leave so soon. Sad that I'll never see her boy again. For a long time I couldn't even stand the sound of her name. Now it's the only thing I can think about. Lily.

_A/N: so, was this totally sappy and out of character or was it actually kind of good? Let me know. Please. With a cherry on top._


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